tender layers
What if I could create a geological cross-section of my perceptions? My mother studied to become a geologist, but never went through with it. I've always struggled to see the world through her eyes, but I've been practicing daydreaming, going on aimless walks and scrolling through my phone to learn new ways of being tender. For me, tenderness is where and when meaning emerges, instead of being captured. It has many ill-fitting layers that may or may not come together in the same flow. It's ever-changing, just like our perceptions and our relationship to them.
liz escalle-dyachenko (they/them)
@shipovniki (telegram) / @elizik_shipovnik (instagram)
Quote
Assignment 2 (14/07/2025)
The quote made me think about the fragmented layers that constitute the architecture of our perception, as well as the resulting feeling of being both here and not here that it might create. I sometimes have this experience when I try to focus on what seems at first sight to be a singular object: the more I zoom in, the more it dissolves in multiple imprints/traces of something else.
Webs of past, present, and future relations certainly haunt whatever we initially perceive as separate entities. In the short video I did for this assignment, I juxtaposed a photo of a storefront in Clichy (north of Paris) that I took yesterday with the melody of an Irish song, "My Lagan Love". This is an echo of my time in Brittany last week, a region with a strong Irish cultural heritage. I played the song on the old, out-of-tune harpsichord in my parents' house, where I came back for a few days, and recorded it simply on my phone. I left some details of the montage (which I also did on my phone) resounding and apparent.
The quote made me think about the fragmented layers that constitute the architecture of our perception, as well as the resulting feeling of being both here and not here that it might create. I sometimes have this experience when I try to focus on what seems at first sight to be a singular object: the more I zoom in, the more it dissolves in multiple imprints/traces of something else.
Webs of past, present, and future relations certainly haunt whatever we initially perceive as separate entities. In the short video I did for this assignment, I juxtaposed a photo of a storefront in Clichy (north of Paris) that I took yesterday with the melody of an Irish song, "My Lagan Love". This is an echo of my time in Brittany last week, a region with a strong Irish cultural heritage. I played the song on the old, out-of-tune harpsichord in my parents' house, where I came back for a few days, and recorded it simply on my phone. I left some details of the montage (which I also did on my phone) resounding and apparent.